


One Night at My Cottage

by beekathony



Category: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn
Genre: Comfort, Cozy Cottage, F/M, sick!benedict, they both get naked heyo, what i wish happened that night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:01:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29016273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beekathony/pseuds/beekathony
Summary: What I wish would've happened that night Benedict was sick with fever, and Sophie nursed him back to health.
Relationships: Sophie Beckett/Benedict Bridgerton
Comments: 9
Kudos: 63





	One Night at My Cottage

**Author's Note:**

> “Very well, But I’m going to leave your door open. If you need me in the night, just call out.” - Chapter 8 of An Offer From a Gentleman

It was the thrashing about that had worried Sophie. Mr. Bridgerton had looked so poorly when she’d brought the covers to his neck earlier that night. Which is why when she woke from her sleep — sleep that could not have been more than thirty minutes — she dashed to his room.

The way he had called out to her, or she wondered if he was thinking of someone else entirely, to kiss him made her heart leap with a feeling she hadn’t felt in many years. When she pushed his outstretched arms away, she was resolved to go back to her own room and let him sleep off his sickness.

But then he asked again.

“Kiss me!”

There was an urgency in his voice. As if he would simply die then and there if he was not kissed.

Why shouldn’t she kiss him? He surely wouldn’t remember it in the morning, and she certainly wasn’t going to remind him of it.

Which is why Sophie had leaned in towards Mr. Bridgerton — Benedict — and kissed his lips, barely brushing against them.

Only, his outstretched arms slid around her body, and she was unable to escape. His grip was so strong, and so bloody hot because of his fever that Sophie was growing quiet agitated.

“Benedict!” Sophie grunted as she tried to pry his arms from around her body, but it was no use. In his fever dream, for he had to be dreaming, he was stronger than she would’ve believed.

Before she knew it, Sophie was being pulled onto the bed, her borrowed breeches falling swiftly to the floor. A small squeak left her lips as the rush of cold air went across her bare legs.

His arms wrapped around her, holding her body as close as possible. For someone so ill, he sure had a tight grip. Sophie protested and tried to wiggle her way out of his embrace, but she found herself well and truly trapped in his arms. Not that she necessarily minded, but this wasn’t proper and she knew it.

“Oh Benedict,” she sighed heavily, hoping that his arms would loosen and she would be able to return back to her own room.

Her hand crept to his forehead and she winced. He was still very very warm, but she hand’t a clue what to do about it. Surely a cold compress would be good, and warm broth in the morning. But she also surmised that what he really needed was a good nights rest. His chest was moving up and down in a steady rhythm. Laying her hand over his heart, she began to count his heartbeats to pass the time since she was trapped against his body.

“Kiss me again,” Benedict mumbled minutes later and Sophie’s head snapped up.

“Shhh,” she whispered, stroking his cheek softly. “Umph!”

Benedict rolled onto his side, taking her with him. It was only then that she remembered he was fully naked under these covers. Only a few thin layers separated her body and his, and that thought alone made her face flush. Which was a feat in and of itself considering she was sweating from being near him.

After another ten minutes, Sophie realized that she might never be able to return to her own room, as much as she wanted to. But this was a lie, and she knew it. What she really wanted was to lie here in his arms all night and every night that would follow.

He stirred next to her, mumbling incoherent phrases. The soft glow of the fire lit up his face just enough for her to see the soft expression on his face. For this she was glad, because at least he was not suffering too much in his awful state. Her hand found its place on his bare chest which was hot to the touch.

Even though it had been the longest day of her life, Sophie could not sleep. Certainly not now. Not when the man she’d been dreaming of for years was now holding her in his arms. However aware of it he was or wan’t, she wanted to savor each and every minute that passed so as to think on them in years to come when she was alone.

She would leave his bed in the morning, she decided. If he needed to hold someone in his arms to recover, then who was she to stop him?

“Benedict,” she said his name out loud, so softly it was barely a whisper amongst the crackle of the low fire.

“I love you,” she whispered against his chest. “I’ve always loved you.”

To her relief, he didn’t stir or make any kind of signal that he had just heard her deepest confession.

She loved a man she barely knew. A man she had met one glorious, and perfectly splendid night years ago. But in those horrible and miserable years after she left her step-mother’s house, Benedict had been there for her. Night after night, he appeared to her in her dreams. Taking her hand, kissing her palm, and he was always kind to her. He had also occupied many of her waking day dreams. It was silly she knew, but she would picture seeing him on the street, and his eyes would meet her and he would know. He would know it was her from that night, the girl in silver.

But her dream had come true in a way. The last place she expected to see him was at the Cavender’s and yet when their eyes had met, he had not recognized her and fallen to his knees, asking for her hand.

Sophie was’t sure what hurt more. The fact that he did not recognize her, or that he probably only saved her because she looked weak and helpless. Benedict was a kind man, and she knew had she been any woman in danger of being attacked, he would have saved her.

A small inkling inside of her held onto the hope that he would look into her eyes and suddenly know it was her. It would all click together in his mind, and then they could be together as she so often dreamed.

Tonight, laying here in his arms was probably never going to happen again.

Sophie dared to place a gentle kiss to his neck, surprising herself when tears filled her eyes. Her heart clenched as it rolled down her cheek, landing on his warm skin. Oh how she wanted him to remember. All she had to do was tell him who she was, but she was worthless. A servant. Someone who did not deserve to even be in his presence. He would turn her away the moment he found out who she really was, she was sure of it. No self-respecting man would make a proposal to someone with her background.

For some unknown reason, Sophie began to talk to him quietly. Her mind and heart was racing and she found it eased her to say the things she held so closely to her out loud.

“I wish you would remember, Benedict,” she spoke softly so as to rouse him.

“That it was me, the girl from the masquerade. The girl in silver who ran away from you.”

Her hand cupped his warm cheek, and she smiled as he turned into her palm.

“There is nothing I wish more than to be with you,” her voice was strained. “If my parentage was legitimate. If I wasn’t a lowly bastard girl. If—“ she choked on her tears. “If perhaps you weren’t born in to a well-bred family.”

His breathing was still steady and deep.

“You could me mine,” she said to the room. “And I could be yours.”

“Mmphph,” Benedict grumbled, making her heart leap. Sophie checked his face and his eyes were firmly shut.

The air was cold on her bare legs, but she would not under any circumstances join him under the covers. The last thing she needed was to be pressed against his naked body. It would possibly lead to things she had vowed she would never do. At least not under these circumstances. Sophie vowed she would never be anyone’s mistress.

Deciding there was no harm in trying to keep warm, however, Sophie moved closer to Benedict if that was even possible. His arms tightened their hold on her, and she nuzzled against his chest. Heat radiated off him in waves, and soon she wasn’t shivering.

She didn’t know when, but her eyes had finally closed and sleep had come for her at long last.

In her dreams, she was at the masquerade ball, as she often was most nights.

Benedict had his arms around her waist and they were dancing to far off music. And this time when the gong rang throughout the house, she removed her mask and he his. She did not flee or escape his arms. He held her close and pressed his lips to hers.

The feeling of his lips against hers was so strong that when she sensed the dream was over and she was waking, she could’ve sworn his lips were still there.

Sophie’s eyes popped open and she had to hold back her scream that had come to the tip of her tongue.

Benedict _was_ kissing her. And she was most certainly, positively, very awake.

“Mmmmph,” Sophie pushed against him. “Benedict!”

“No,” he argued, drawing her closer, his mouth making it’s way to her neck.

“You’re asleep,” Sophie protested. “How can you be doing this in your sleep?!”

His body froze. _Oh good God._

One by one, Benedict’s fingers detached themselves from her body. Sophie was paralyzed, unable to move until his eyes met hers.

“Good morning, Sophie,” he said shyly, realizing what he had just been doing.

“Good morning, Mr. Bridgerton,” Sophie squeaked out and then jumped up with every intention of running out of the room with her tail between her legs.

His warm hand on arm stopped her, however.

“Sophie,” his voice was weak, and scratchy. He needed something to drink desperately.

Benedict thought holding her in his arms had been some sort of mad fever dream. One that he was not opposed to having, he admitted to himself freely. But he had been very shocked to find her actually in his arms just moments ago.

He watched her, frozen at the end of the bed with one leg hanging off, ready to run. A smile crept its way onto his face.

“Please,” he said a little louder. “Stay.”

Her head whipped back at his words, her too large eyes filled with questions.

“But this isn’t proper, Mr. Bridgerton,” she shook her head, averting his gaze. “I feel so ashamed to have woken up in this position.”

“We did nothing wrong,” he shrugged, then feeling weak from the effort and sagged back against the pillows. He noted that she did not run as his hand left her arm.

Sophie crawled back to the center of the bed, sitting on her knees before him. It was with great delight that he noticed she wasn’t wearing her breeches. They were of course, way too big for her and he supposed they had slipped off last night in her arrival in his bed. He had the good sense to feel embarrassed by his actions that he couldn’t remember.

“At least,” he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t think we did anything wrong. I can’t actually recall most of what happened after we arrived last night.”

“Nothing!” Sophie shouted, which made him wince. “Nothing,” she said softly, giving him a small smile. “I was in my own room last night, and I heard a terrible sound and came to check on you.”

The shirt he had given her was much to big, and it was also quite old and therefore a touch see-through he noted with extreme pleasure. Benedict’s eyes left hers briefly to look at her ample cleavage, and with a sudden remembrance, he knew he was naked under the sheets.

“That does still not answer the question as to why you were in my bed, and I was—“ Benedict stopped just short of the next word. He had kissed her in his sleep. To be fair, he was dreaming of the girl at the ball. They had been dancing in his dream, and so when he felt the weight of a woman in his arms, he thought it was a continuation of that very dream. How was he to know Sophie had climbed into his bed in the night?

“Well,” Sophie looked down, a bright pink filling her cheeks. “You asked me to—“

“Oh God,” Benedict clapped his hand to his mouth. “I didn’t.”

Sophie met his eye, laughter at the surface of her lips.

“I asked you to kiss me, didn’t I?”

Her answering nod was enough to send him hiding under the covers. Pieces of the night came to him then. The thrashing in the covers and his begging her to kiss him. And then his pulling her into the bed with him, where he suspected she had been all night. The thought of holding her in his arms was not an unpleasant one. But one he would have liked to have been more aware of.

“Miss Beckett,” Benedict began. “I must apologize for my behavior last night. Clearly, I had no idea what I was doing. The fever, it—“ he looked at her, his breath catching at just how beautiful she looked in the early dawn. “It, uh, it caused me to act very ungentlemanly.”

“Apology accepted,” she smiled.

They sat there in companionable silence for a few minutes more. Sophie on her knees, looking utterly disheveled, and Benedict bare as the day he was born under the covers.

“I suppose I should be getting back to my own room,” Sophie finally said and moved to leave.

“Sophie,” Benedict stopped her. She now stood at the end of the bed, the too big shirt hanging off one delicious shoulder. He felt himself harden at the sight of her, and he knew beyond a doubt that he wanted to hold her again, no matter if she was a servant or not.

“Yes?”

“I do believe I asked you to stay,” he put his hand on the bed next to the empty spot next to him.

“Mr. Bridgerton, I cannot—“

“You would deny a dying man his last wish?” Benedict gasped lightheartedly.

At this, Sophie couldn’t hold back her laughter, and my God, Benedict thought, she looked bloody good doing it.

“You are far from dying, my Lord,” Sophie snickered but instead of refusing his offer, she gingerly climbed back to the bed next to him. His eyes caught a glimpse down her shirt as she moved and his manhood twitched under the covers.

He didn’t know why, and perhaps he didn’t really want to think about it too hard, but Benedict knew he needed to hold her, or perhaps he would die then and there.

Sophie was hesitant, unsure if he would push her away in the next minute, but he was pulling her close and wrapping both arms around her body. She lay in his arms, against his chest and it was the most wonderful feeling she’d ever experienced.

“I only kissed you last night, right?” Benedict asked, his chin resting on top of her head.

“Just a kiss,” Sophie nodded, sliding her hand around his waist.

“Good,” Benedict said.

“How so?”

“Well,” his cheeks blushed and he was glad she could not see his face. “If we did something more, and I couldn’t remember it… that would be a damn shame. Forgive my language.”

Sighing, Sophie smiled warmly. As much as she had wanted to crawl under the covers last night, she too had wanted it to be under his own free will, something he consciously made a decision about.

Like he was now. Holding her in his arms, his fingers lightly stroking her back.

Chills went up and down her body at his touch, and she curled into him. His fingers were sure and steady, never leaving her body.

Benedict wanted to pull off that horrible shirt of hers and press his naked body against her. He wanted her to feel the proof of his desire as he slipped her hand under the covers. But he couldn’t. It was just last night that he had saved her from being attacked by three men. The last thing she needed right now was another aroused man trying to bed her.

Oh but she felt so heavenly against his body. Her own fingers were tracing circles on his skin, just near his hip. Slowly, he trailed one hand along her back and let it rest at the base of her spine, waiting for her protest. When she did not push him away, he let his hand move further to her bottom, cupping it gently.

Sophie’s heart was pounding furiously and she was sure Benedict could feel it. Never had a man touched her so. The only thing separating his hand and her derriere was a thin piece of material. She really should stop him. He was still poorly for one thing, and she also refused to sleep with him. What if she became with child and was forced to live out her days just like her mother? No. Sophie would let him touch her, but it would go no further.

At least that’s what she thought until his hand slipped under her shirt, touching her bare bottom.

“Oh Sophie,” Benedict said her name, softly like a prayer. He rolled over on his side, pressing her body against the bed, his hand still on her bottom, squeezing the flesh.

“We shouldn’t,” Sophie sighed, but feeling like she very much wanted to give into him. “I can’t.”

“Oh, I think you’ll get the way of it,” Benedict smirked, pressing his body against hers and letting her feel how much he wanted her.

“Benedict,” she breathed heavily as he descended on her, his mouth on hers. Her lips were pliable and her body was warm and soft. His hands moved under her shirt and he cupped her breasts, flicking the nipples with his fingers. Sophie moaned and squirmed under him.

“Do you like that?” He arched one brow, giving her breast a firm squeeze. His manhood was resting against her stomach, and it took all of his self control to not bury himself inside her. She was a virgin. She must be by the way she reacted to his touch.

“Mmmhmm,” Sophie managed to make some sort of sound. Her back arched off of the bed, pressing against his hands. In the next instant, she found herself bare to him. The shirt he’d given her now fluttered to the ground.

“Sophie,” Benedict looked down at her naked body. “You’re so beautiful,” he kissed her cheek. “So unbelievably beautiful.” His mouth moved to hers, urgent and hungry.

It was then as his manhood lined up with her entrance that she pushed against him.

“No!” She shouted which startled him. Benedict froze and pulled back to look at her face, his hand resting on her cheek.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Benedict looked into her eyes, begging her to say no and when she shook her head, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“No, it’s not that,” Sophie placed her hand on his shoulder, for she didn’t want to stop touching him. “I want this,” she gulped. “Very badly. But I cannot risk…”

“I see,” Benedict understood then. She did not want to risk becoming with child. Of course she wouldn’t, he should’ve known. He liked her very much, but he knew he could not marry someone like her. However, he knew this wasn’t about her reputation, this was something more. Something she wasn’t telling him.

“We don’t have to then,” Benedict said sweetly, and began to roll off of her.

Her insistent hand on his shoulder kept him steady and in place over her.

“I don’t want you to leave though,” she nearly begged, her voice wavering.

His brow arched, and he smiled. That lopsided grin that made her stomach flip.

“There is something we _could_ do,” he smirked, looking like the devil himself. “Something that I assure you would not lead to… well that.”

“What could that be?” Her face scrunched up adorably.

_Adorably?_ Benedict thought. God, he was losing it.

Instead of telling her, he showed her.

His manhood was still against her entrance and still very hard. He knew he could not come inside of her, but that didn’t mean he could not touch her in this way.

Slowly, and careful not to move too deeply inside of her entrance, Benedict pushed forward so that only the tip of his cock was inside her. It was the most wonderful feeling he’d ever experienced. And also the hardest thing he’d ever done as he wanted very badly to root himself all the way to her inner most depths.

Sophie gasped underneath him and his mouth found hers again. His hands reassured her and he moved his hips, the tip of his cock pressing along her wet folds. She was slick and warm. It was in that moment that Benedict knew he wanted her. He wanted her under him, on top of him and every which way he could have her. He would wait until she was ready, but by God he would lie with her one day.

“Are you okay?” He had the mind to ask her.

A small nod moved against his neck, and he smiled. His hand moved down her body, skimming her breasts and navel and settled on the hard nub between her legs, pressing firmly.

“Benedict!” Sophie clutched his shoulders, bringing him closer.

“Ahhh,” she moaned as thumb moved in circles against her sensitive spot. The tip of his cock slid along her entrance, only teasing her. Benedict knew he was close. Lord, he’d been close to spilling the moment he had woken this morning with his lips on hers.

His hand sped its movement and his hips snapped incessantly against her. Sophie’s body arched off the bed, and then he felt it. Peering at her face, Benedict watched the moment that her soul momentarily left her body. Her mouth was open in an O, and Benedict couldn’t help himself from tracing his fingers along her lips.

She closed her mouth around his finger, her tongue flicking against him and then he came, fast. Thankfully, he had not been inside her, but he’d come on her stomach, unable to stop himself.

“Oh Sophie,” Benedict panted, collapsing on top of her before rolling to the side, carrying her in his arms.

“I didn’t know it could be like that,” she said softly, looking to meet his gaze.

“I didn’t either,” Benedict smiled, stroking her hair. “I’ve never— it’s never been so…”

“Yeah,” Sophie agreed, kissing his chin and nuzzled against his warm body. She knew she should feel ashamed, but she did not. She felt absolutely perfect in that moment, and she knew that once her and Benedict eventually went their separate ways, this perfect morning would come to her, and keep her sane.

Benedict kissed her head, wishing that things were different. Wishing that she was suitable for him. Because as he held her in his arms, he wanted nothing more than to wake up beside her every morning, knowing she was his.


End file.
